Because the Flobberworm Told Me
by italktoomuch
Summary: When Lily was invited to her friend Judy house for the summer she certainly didn't expect to be hounded by Judy's cousin James Potter or for Judy's step-sister Primrose to hate him with a passion that could rival her own. What will happen?


It's funny the things people leave out at peoples funerals. For example, at my grandfather's funeral almost every speech was filled with how he had been a war hero, but not a single person mentioned that his medal for bravery was gained in saving live-stock.

The reason I'm mentioning this is because in the next 48 hours either James Potter, Primrose Pevinsie or Judy Jenkins will be dead, and of course I'll have to resist the urge to say that all this could have been avoided if it hadn't been for the use of ridiculous nicknames and unfortunate marriages that this tragedy would not have occurred.

In essence, sticking a guy like James Potter into a house with his cousin Judy and her step-sister is very foolish indeed. Yes, second honeymoons are very dangerous things.

Perhaps more dangerous however are impromptu second honeymoons, that just happen to take place when I, Lily Evans happen to be at the house of my soon to be deceased friends.

Not that that is a barely concealed death threat though.

I'm much more subtle with murder plans (here 'subtle' means 'I don't go around announcing them to everyone').

Besides, I never said _I_ would be the one killing, I just mentioned that it would probably happen, my presence does not at all indicate I am the murderer, I just happen to have foresight and a basic knowledge of the three involved. I'm more like the narrator, I suppose.

This is the first time I've ever had a serious conversation with myself about whether I am a murderer or not. Which I am not, I swear.

Unless you count that time when I was only seven years old and I forgot to feed the goldfish for two weeks, but that was more manslaughter (well fishslaughter) than murder.

Have I mentioned that I am hiding in a closet? I think this is the one where Mrs. Pevinsie keeps all her muggle cleaning products because it smells very lemony fresh in here... with a slight hint of sandalwood? Also I'm beginning to feel very woozy. Maybe the closet wasn't the most sensible of places to hide from Potter… Or maybe he is using my wooziness as a trick to lure me out! I shall never fall into his trap! NEVER!

In case you haven't noticed, I do not like James Potter all that much. Why, you ask? Because he is an arrogant, big headed, prick who I also happen to find very attractive. Not that I would tell him or any other living or non living thing, be it animal or mineral. I wouldn't even whisper it in passing to the salt shaker, not that I'd have any reason to talk to a salt shaker in the first place.

But where was I? Oh yes, ridiculous nicknames, unfortunate marriages, murder, closets and lemony freshness.

You see the main reason I'm in this closet is simple. It all adds up to those things; nicknames, marriage and murder.

Take nicknames for example. They are an indication of friendship, right? But when that friendship does not exist before the nickname it becomes a symbol of overall jerkish-ness.

But that isn't necessarily Judy's biggest problem with the nickname her cousin and friends have chosen for her. Her biggest problem is that the said 'nickname' happens to be 'Butter-Muffins', or at least that's what I've managed to understand from her furious yelling.

Potter and Primrose seem to have the same problem as each other; the marriage of Aurora Jenkins (nee. Potter) and Anthony Pevinsie, which, by some horrible twist of fate, has caused them to be related to each other. All I've managed to understand about their hatred for each other is that it stemmed from bread stick theft at a Ministry function when they were both five.

So as you can see… most of this hatred and anger is currently pinned on a Mr. James Potter who, at this rate, will be the Late Mr. James Potter within the next two days. That is the murder part and as I have just explained I really _am_ not involved at all so you can get all your crazy little suspicions out of your head now. I am an innocent bystander who has imprisoned themselves amongst cleaning supplies for protection. Because we are alone. No parents. Everyone is off marrying each other and doing those unthinkable things I suspect adults do when they renew their vows and have honeymoons.

What is this? No yelling? No sounds of loud crashing? Should I start writing an obitua-

"So they've finally stopped have they?" A deep voice whispers from the other side of the closet.

"AHHHHH! MURDERER HEL-" A hand clamps over my mouth before I can finish.

Sirius Black tuts at me, looming out of the darkness. "No need to be so loud Carrot Cake, Butter Muffins and Banana Bread will hear you, and I don't think they should now I'm here just yet."

Did I happen to mention that every nickname distributed to Gryffindor girls in our year by the Marauders seems to be related to baked goods?

"I shall only be as loud as the situation calls for, and uninvited strangers in my closet of cleanliness and safety calls for murder yells." My eyes narrow and eyebrows rise. "You seem to have bathed in sandalwood cologne."

"It's to hide my overwhelming pheromones so you don't feel the need to throw yourself at me, Cakey. I would accept of course, to make you happy, but Prongsy-boy would not be pleased."

"If they didn't kill him, you mean."

He shakes his head at me. "Oh no, if they killed him and then you threw yourself at me he would be furious." He grins at me like a loon on loon pills.

"You grin like a loon on loon pills, Black."

He winks. "A hot loon though, right?"

"Debatable…"

"How is it debatable Cake? HOW?" He wails.

"I'm not telling you!"

"HOWWWW, CAKEY, HOOOOOW!"

"Loon." I stick out my tongue.

"Shameless bully." He replies before throwing open the closet door and jumping to his feet.

"Where are you going, Black?" He turns to look at me, both eyebrows raised at me absurdly as I clamber out of the closet on my hands and knees.

"I am fetching help for the damsel in distress of course. And a steak. With roast potatoes." And will that he sprinted away from me like a man possessed. This, though now I think about would explain his strange behavior since I first met him in Diagon Alley before first year. He is possessed by some strange creature that loves baked goods and root vegetables.

I don't suppose now would be the time to mention that my dear friend Judy also happens to love root vegetables, would it? Then again, she also happens to like anything mildly cabbage-y too, so her taste may not be all that discerning.

I hate cabbage. The smell of it reminds me of my younger cousin Isabella, whose only real claim to making an imprint in my life was dropping a cat on me while I was having a bath when I was 9.


End file.
